


Paintstrokes & Vinyl

by wordslikelightning



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, artist!castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslikelightning/pseuds/wordslikelightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak, an talented artist fresh from University, moves into the apartment above Dean’s music shop. With a meddling Gabriel as their landlord, what could possibly happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paintstrokes & Vinyl

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything, I just like to play here. The writers and creators get all the credit for making such wonderful places and characters.  
> Most works are not beta read. All mistakes are my own.  
> Rated T for now for upcoming chapters, but will possibly move up in the future.

Dean Winchester loves his job. He loves that he can sit and listen to his favorite tunes while sorting the worn classics or new releases from few current bands he deems worthy of the time and money. His shop is one of the greatest loves of his life. It’s right behind his (not so) little brother, his ’67 Chevy Impala and just before pie. He watches people stream by the front window of his corner music shop in Chicago. It’s a little off the beaten track, but he likes it that way. It tends to weed out all of the posers who wander in, in search of vinyl because it’s the cool thing now and not because they love the music. Plus it’s right next to a killer coffee shop. 

Dean rented it the year his little brother, Sam, went off to Stamford to become a lawyer. Now his brother was out saving people from a terrible fate and Dean was left with with more time than he knew what to do with. He no longer had to watch out for his brother constantly. Sam encouraged him to start building a life for himself. They packed up, went separate ways, and did their own things.

It’s rare if they don’t talk at lest once a day. Sam is happy. He is busy being smart, earning money and having a beautiful fiancée named Jess. Dean is happy too, he is happy Sam is happy, and happy to be finding his own way for a while. Once he moved into his apartment, Dean wondered around Chicago, looking for a place to start, when he came across the shop he is in now. He rented it from a mischievous little man with a huge sweet tooth. Dean cannot think of a time when he has seen his landlord, Gabriel Novak, without some sort of candy (which he got from the confectionery he manages in the more touristy past of town). Dean has been there for five years. 

The shop is narrow, the walls lined with racks (vinyl on the left and CDs on the right), and a case that ran down the center of the room dividing them. They started halfway into the shop and continued to the back wall. They were only waist high, so the walls were decorated with posters and pictures of bands or artists, which just so happen to be Dean’s favorites, and a few displays.

The shopfront was mostly windows. Since it was on a corner, they extended a little down the left wall as well. Two panes were covered in flyers with information of shows played by local bands. People would drop by and ask to leave a flyer and Dean would always direct them to the window. The overlapping colors from the multitude of papers blocked the morning sun from the counter, throwing slivers of color across the room and onto the ugly carpeted floor. A poor man’s stained glass window. Behind the counter was an old boom box and a box of well loved cassette tapes. They had been his father’s before he died and now Dean puts them to use each day to fill the air with the sound guitar strings. A stool was positioned behind the register and an old lumpy arm chair guarded the end of the counter. The door on the back wall lead to the storeroom and a staircase. There is an empty apartment upstairs and since Dean had already had a place when he found Gabriel, he didn’t need to rent that as well. 

He walks around like this every morning, looking over the shelves, making sure everything is where it should be. Just in case he needs to find something specific and fast. Dean has good set of regulars. They come in roughly once a week, whether to pick up an album or talk about rumors in the music world. He gets the stray one timer, looking of something hard to find and he see’s it as his personal mission to win them over with his quick wit and charming smile. 

He does not, however, feel the need to do so with Gabriel, quite the opposite actually. Not even when he bursts through the door, coffee and doughnuts in hand. 

“Heya Dean-o,” he says was to enthusiastically for this early in the morning. People should not be that happy until at least 11, if not later. When all Gabriel got was a grunt in return, he huffily set down the cup. Shaking the little white bag in Dean’s face, he whined, “Oh, come on! I bring you your favorite coffee and a delicious pastry and I don’t even get a hello?” Dean smacked his arm out of the way and headed for the liquid life. 

“You only bring me stuff when you have to tell me something I wont like,” Dean grumbles while taking a sip out of his cup. 

“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” Gabriel’s back is turned to Dean as he opens the bag to dig into the sugary goodness inside. “Now what you mention it though,” he takes a huge bite out of the glaze covered pastry, “fere isf somefing I wahnna tell you.” 

“Really, I wouldn’t have guessed...” Dean mutters under his breath as Gabriel talks right over him. 

“You have heard me mention my brother, right?” 

“Yeah, Cassiel, or something.” 

“Castiel,” he annunciates. “Anyways, he finished art school and is moving back to Chicago.” 

“Gabriel, what does this have to do with me?” Dean sighs and rubs his forehead. 

“I gave him the room upstairs.” Before Dean could say anything, he adds, “And I may have said he could sell some of his work here.” 

Dean freezes. He gently sets the cup down so he doesn’t spill it. “You didn’t think to maybe ask me before you told your brother he could share my shop?” Dean was fuming, “I pay you good money to rent this place so I can make a living. Your brother all of a sudden pops up and you just let him take over my shop?” 

“Take a breather there, kid! I didn’t think you would mind that much. All he needs is a wall anyways. I think your costumers will like it.” Dean can tell he is pulling out his salesmen voice, staring him strait in the eye, while he pushes Dean’s cinnamon apple fritter towards him. 

“I know this is technically still your property, and you can do whatever the hell you want with upstairs. But next time you give away parts of my livelihood, couldn’t you have asked me at least?” He takes a bite, still scowling. Gabriel knows him and his weakness for baked apples all too well. Gabe smirked, knowing he had won. 

“You got it! See, I knew you really didn’t care that much!” 

“If his art sucks or he tries to turn this place into a hipster joint, I’m coming after you and you will break it to him.”  

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>  

It’s a few weeks after Gabe broke the news to him, that he finds a trim figured, raven haired, guy waking into his shop a little before lunch. Dean takes a moment to take in his startling blue eyes and care worn trench coat.

“Hey man, anything I can help you find? Or did you just come in to look?” Dean straitened up from the records he was alphabetizing to give the man his full attention. The man stared at him for a long moment with a seemingly soul searching gaze. Finally he spoke. 

“Is Gabriel Novak here? He informed me this is where we should meet.” The voice was a surprisingly low and raspy coming out of the small man with such clear eyes. Although, it fix his serious expression perfectly. Nobody know Dean rents the shop from Gabriel besides the man himself and Sam. 

“Um, no. He isn’t. I could get a message to him if yo- wait. Are you by any chance his brother? The one who is moving in upstairs?” 

“Yes, I am. He told me he would be here to let me into the apartment so I could start unpacking.” The windswept man answered while looking around the shop. Dean huffed a sigh, this is just like Gabe, leaving his little brother hanging like this. 

“If I know Gabe, he will show up sooner or later. Whether you want him to or not, actually. You can hang out in here while you wait.” He started to shake his head.  

“I do not wish to intrude,” but Dean stopped him there with a raise of a hand. 

“You wont.” He pointed to one of the chairs in the corner that Dean uses when he has to do inventory. “You can chill over there if you want to sit down. You’ve probably tired from traveling.” A small smile flicked about the corners of the dark haired man’s mouth. He crossed the room to where Dean was standing, stopping a little too close for the other’s comfort, and stretched out his hand.  

“Thank is truly kind of you. Thank you- ?”  

“Name’s Dean Winchester. Really, it’s not problem,” Dean said as he took the proffered hand. 

“It is nice to make your acquaintance, Dean. My name is Castiel Novak.” Castiel then retreated to the armchair Dean had indicated. Dropping the bag that had been resting on his shoulder to the ground. Dean watched him surreptitiously. I mean really, what else did he have to do? It was a Tuesday before lunch, no one would be in and Castiel was more interesting than the familiar records he is surrounded by daily. 

Castiel reached down into his messenger bag (which Dean saw had two dark grey wings painted on the front flap), and pulled out a well used sketchbook.  He perched on the edge of the chair, opened to a clean page, and set to work. Dean shook himself slightly and continued on with his organizing.  

Castiel scratched away on his paper while Dean cleaned the shop and generally kept busy, humming under his breath as he went. Dean took Castiel down the block so they could grab something to eat for lunch and took it back to the shop. They stood at the counter munching on chips and turkey sandwiches and occasionally talking. They weren’t Dean’s food of choice (he preferred his food with a bit more grease), but it was pretty good and Cas seemed to like it by the small smile on his face. While he washed a bit down with a sip of tea, Dean tried to figure out when he had started to refer to the man as ‘Cas’. 

Castiel always spoke as if he were meeting the queen. Dean found out that Cas had made the trek to Chicago from Portland, where he had went to art school.  Dean had sympathized, he knew all about long drives from moving from state to state as a kid. Dean told him about his brother and how he had met Gabriel. Castiel also thanked him profusely for letting him sell his pieces in Dean’s shop. Asking if he was sure it was alright and that he could find somewhere else if it wasn’t. He wondered if sharing a shop with this guy would be all that bad. 

After lunch, they fell into a companionable quite as Dean got back to work. He helped a few customers and sang under his breath as he unloaded a new shipment. Castiel went back to drawing. 

Finally, Gabriel waltzed in and was greeted by a glare from both men. 

“Whoa! Is that anyway to greet you landlord? And Cassy, you haven’t seen me in years!” They did not stop. “I knew it was a bad idea to leave you two alone together...” Castiel put his sketchbook away and stood to face his brother. His face had went from a smooth calm to an impending storm. The small man could be quite intimidating when he wanted to. Dean made a mental not to not get on his bad side if he could help it. Castiel walked forward slowly as he spoke in an even voice that expressed his anger better than a raised on would. 

“Gabriel. You hold me to meet you here over five hours ago. I was here, you were not. I had to impose on Dean while I waited for you, assbutt.” Gabriel was trying to back up without being obvious about it and failing miserably. His younger brother’s rage making the already short man seem even more so. 

“Come on, Castiel, I have a business to run! Today we had shipments come in and I had to be there to sign for them. I couldn’t leave, even if it was for my favorite brother!” Castiel was not impressed.  

“You could have called. You could have told me. I would have come and gotten the keys so I could move in and maybe get to bed at a reasonable time.” Gabriel threw his hands up in surrender, not being able to talk or charm his way out to a brother who obviously knew him so well. 

“Fine! I’m an idiot! I’m selfish! I am the scum on the bottom of your shoe! Now that that is out of the way, would you like to see your new place?” He motioned for Castiel to follow him. He turned to nod in farewell to Dean before he stepped through the door at the back of the shop that lead upstairs. 

Dean looked at the clock. He really was not expecting anyone else to show up. He flipped the switch on the ‘Open’ sign and went to offer his assistance in moving Cas in.  

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>  

The next week passed quite like it normally did for Dean. The only change was the occasional scraping sound as things were moved about above him. Castiel would come down around noon and walk down the block to get food for them to eat at the counter, like they did that first day. It worked out great because it gave Dean something to look forward to and didn’t have to leave his shop unattended, as well as making sure Castiel actually ate that day. Some days they sat in silence, just enjoying the company of someone else in the room. When they did talk, it was mostly general topics. Castiel would talk about books and Dean about music, but they both were rather fond of discussing their brothers. They would share stories while steering clear of mentioning any other family members. It was obviously a touchy subject on both sides. Dean figured out that Cas was seriously lacking in pop culture knowledge (and pledged to fix that), preferred tea to just about everything and had serious staring and personal space issues. His gaze would always linger just a bit too long and he would always be a fraction too close to be considered ‘normal’. Castiel found Dean’s extreme loyalty and pride in his little brother admirable, that he is quite well traveled and his bizarre love for his vehicle and pie. 

Gabriel, seeming to be trying to buy his way back into his brother’s good books, stopped by one afternoon with some of the bigger pieces of furniture (which he had obviously just bought for his brother), and muscle to take them up. 

At lunch on Friday, Dean took the initiative and struck up conversation.

“So, are you all moved in yet?” 

“Not quite, no. Some of those pieces Gabriel brought are proving to be more difficult than I had imagined.” Castiel glared at his tea as he spoke, as if the beverage had done him a personal wrong. 

“Easy there Cyclops, you might vaporize that with your laser vision.” 

Castiel’s expression turned to one of confusion, “I don’t understand that reference, Dean.” 

“You were never into X-men! Man, we have some serious work to do.” At Castiel’s affronted look he waved a hand, “Anyway, why don’t I close up shop early and I can come help you put your furniture together?” So sue him, the guy had grown on Dean. Castiel went to speak, but Dean stopped him again. “And don’t even bother with the ‘not wanting to be a bother’ crap. If I didn’t want to I wouldn’t have offered. So, do you want my help or not?” Castiel shifted a bit in his seat, eye’s never leaving Dean’s, and said, 

“That would be very much appreciated, Dean. Thank you.” 

“Not a problem, Cas,” Dean turned away so he couldn’t see his new friend’s (They were friends, weren’t they? They saw each other everyday for over a week and had lunch together...), face when he had let the nickname slip out. He had never said it aloud before. With his back turned, he missed Castiel’s widened eyes, the slight blush that crept to his cheeks and the hint of a smile as he sipped his tea.

  <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>  

“Cas. I think I know the problem, You can’t put these together because the instructions are in French.” He waved the paper in front of the dark haired man’s face. 

“No, that is not the problem,” Castiel just shakes his head as he pulls his face back slightly.  

“How isn’t it? I can’t read this!” 

“But I can, Dean. I am quite fluent in French. As well as several other languages.” Dean gaped at him. 

“Well, you will just have to read these to me then, Mr. Linguistics.” And he did. Slowly but surly they got the main pieces assembled. Until Dean stomach gave an embarrassingly loud rumble. He looked up at Castiel sheepishly, brushing his hand off on his jeans. 

“Do you wanna go get something to eat? There is a bar run by a close friend of mine down the street and it’s got pretty good food.” Cas agreed and not long after they were walking into the doors of The Roadhouse. Dean entered first, Castiel trailing behind. He waved at the owner Ellen, who promptly crossed the floor and pulled Dean into a hug. When she released him, she cuffed him on the back of the head.  

“What did I say about not being a stranger? It’s been over a month since I have seen you, boy.”  

“Sorry, Ellen,” Dean muttered as he rubbed a hand over his scalp, looking just like an admonished child. Castiel stepped out from behind Dean and stepped forward.  

“I believe I many be slightly responsible,” Cas offered. Ellen’s eyes widened as she swept her gaze up and down, which turned approving and darted between the two men. Dean quickly stepped in before her imagination ran away with itself.  

“Ellen, this is Castiel. He is moving into the apartment above my shop. He is my landlord’s brother.” He gave her a quelling look.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Castiel. Let’s get you guys a table.” 

“Likewise.” Ellen showed them to a booth in the corner, dropped two menus and asked if they needed a minute. Dean of course already knew what he wanted and Cas said he would take the same. After she left, Dean offered to go get some drinks at the bar for them both and slid out of the booth. 

Jo was bar tending, just his luck. When she turned to him, her mouth spread in a mischievous grin. “So, mom told me about your ‘friend’ over there...”  

“Shut it, Jo. He is just my friend. Can’t I have friends without y’all getting on my case?” Jo peeks back over his shoulder to look in Cas’ direction and then back to Dean.  

“Not one that attractive. You can’t possibly have me believe that you have no ulterior motives to being his friend. I mean, he's not exactly your usual type, but I can see why you would make an exception.” She turns her back to fetch their drinks.  

“Not a one. I was just being nice and helping him put together his furniture. He is new in town and doesn’t know anyone besides his brother. I’m being nice.”  

“Just remember that we called it when you start to fall for him. Or when someone else does,” Jo hands over the drinks and Dean grabs them and stalks back to the table.

He sets one down in front of Cas and takes a huge swig from his own and put it down on the table with a ‘thunk’. Castiel’s eyebrows knitted together with concern as he studied Dean’s face. “Dean, is everything alright?” 

He nodded slowly, scrubbed a hand over his face and gave Cas a reassuring smile, but fixing his eyes firmly on the bottle golden liquid between his palms. “Yeah, Cas,” he sighed. “It’s just, sometimes I forget what it’s like to have family around. Well, not exactly family, but people who really care about your well-being and won’t go away no matter how rude you are to them.” Once he looked up, he was met by a pair of sapphire eyes swimming with understanding. 

“It has been a long time since I have had that from anyone besides Gabriel,” he adds solemnly. Dean didn’t know what came over him then. He felt the extreme urge to tell this man his whole sob story. An urge so strong, he could not even fight it. 

“Sammy is all I have left. Mom died six months after Sam was born and dad went off the deep end not long after. He closed himself off from us pretty much. He was always at the house, but never there mentally. I raised Sam and then, when dad died in a car accident seven years ago, we were free to live a little more. Try to make a life for ourselves you know? That’s why I’m here and Sam is off living an apple pie life. That is all I ever wanted for him. It’s weird having people like Jo and Ellen around. I always looked out for my brother, but no one was there for me. It’s difficult to remember they care and mean well after all this time of being alone. I could never leave them after all they have done for us after dad checked out. Bobby, the man was pretty much our real father, would come down to Laurence whenever he could. Both he and Ellen would make sure we had enough money to get on with. As soon as I was old enough I started working. I would have two or three jobs at a time, plus school. I wanted Sam to have the childhood I never did. I guess that is why I moved here after Sam went off to college, I was close to Ellen and Jo and halfway between Sam and Bobby. They are the only real family I have ever known.” He hadn’t realized he had been gripping the bottle in his hands with white knuckles until he felt a Cas‘ had settle on top of his and gently loosen his grip so he would not injure himself. With a free hand he scrubs angrily at his eyes, “Dammit, Cas, I’m sorry. You didn’t want to know any of that, no one does. I went and made it all depressing and-” A gentle squeeze of his fingers made him look up again. 

“Dean, it is quite alright. I do not mind. I am actually pleased that you would share something so personal with me. I know it is difficult to do so, I have had my fare share of family problems as well. I am aware of the strength it takes to bring up those situations. Never be afraid to talk to me about it.” For once in his life, Dean was lost for words. He just stared into those immense pools of blue, and that is exactly when their food arrived, causing their hands to break apart.

They fell into their usual comfortable silence. Dean felt oddly light, finally being able to share the thing that weighs heavily on his shoulders. Some days it is inescapable, but with Cas, somehow it seems like it will all be alright.

Talk turns to lighter subjects as the night wears on, and they settle on a date for Castiel to move his art into the shop. He offers to pay, but Castiel says he has been more than generous with all of the help Dean has given him. When the bill came, Cas snags it before it even his the table and hands his card over while giving Dean a smug smile. They both leave walking close, shoulders brushing, feeling closer to each other than they have to anyone in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I can be found at theseeyesofmine or wordslikelightning on Tumblr if anyone is interested.
> 
> I will update as soon as I can!


End file.
